


Fuck You Better

by Useless_Fluffball



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: A close brush with a speeding cart at one point, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And I'm sorry about that., Be careful of these ones:, Begging, But I'm incapable of getting to the point so there is actually some plot, But preheat is not fun, But sometimes it gets lost, Caleb Widogast is a Mess, Caleb is clueless, Consent is Sexy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fjord is the keeper, Fluff and Angst, How else am I supposed to fulfil my fetish hmm???, Hurt/Comfort, I'd like to say this is porn without plot, If I've missed anything do let me know, Just tiefs helping other tiefs through the terrible ordeal of being Perpetually Horny, Lessons in Tiefling Biology, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misunderstandings, Mood Ring Tails, Multi, Oh shit yes actually, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Please take care of yourselves, Sex, Sexual Positivity, Tail Kink, Tail Sex, Tails, The good kind not the traumatic kind, The party has been provided with one (1) braincell to share, The world's leading expert on relationships, These characters are Big Of Heart and Dumb Of Ass, Tieflings, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Why can't people TAG those works, With Jester, Ya girl's starved, emetophobia warning, nothing at all graphic, on that note, so much sex, y'all know why you're here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25095982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useless_Fluffball/pseuds/Useless_Fluffball
Summary: “Weeellllll,” Jester begins, with the air of a distinguished academic, and Fjord focusesreallyhard on inverting his ears, “It’s mostly a tiefling thing, really, mostly, but there’s a time eeevery year where we get... Heh...” She hesitates, “Reeeeally really super needy, andbasicallywe need tohurrm hurrm hurrm,or it’s like, bad for us, and we getsuperill.”For a blissful second, he thinks she’s done, before she continues with all the subtlety of a brick, “And by‘hurrm hurrm hurrm’I mean have lots and lots ofsuper messy sex.”Shameless smut with more plot than it truly needed. :D
Relationships: Fjord/Jester Lavorre (mentioned), Jester Lavorre/Mollymauk Tealeaf, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Mollymauk Tealeaf
Comments: 33
Kudos: 183





	1. Uh Oh

**Author's Note:**

> We all know why we're here. Go forth, my schmutterlings, and rejoice.  
> I will say, however, that the porn actually starts on chapter six. Yeup, heard that right, I'm incapable of not spilling pointless drabble all over everything I touch, sorry.  
> Sorry also for the formatting nonsense, I know it's a bit all over the place. I'm trying to fix it, but gods I just. It's Absolute Fucking Chaos.  
> As always, my update schedule is awful, but I promise I'm trying my very bestest despite the apocalypse.
> 
> Thank you midgardian_leviosa, my terrible darling Levi, for reading this through even though you're unfamiliar with the fandom. I'd say you're a blessing but that would be incorrect and we both know it.  
> Thank you also to everyone who's listened to me ramble about this, and read it over for me! The Widomauk discord is a beautiful place.
> 
> Without further ado, some bullshit. Have fun!

“Ooh, ooh, _“patisserie!”_ That’s how they say _‘bakery’_ in Shorecomb!” Jester makes a beeline for the little shop, decorated quaintly in the same colours as she is; pastel pinks and soft butterscotch creams, and Caleb takes a moment to marvel at her immortal positivity while every single one of his joints screams bloody murder.

“Now hold on just a minute!” Fjord’s hand lands firmly on her shoulder, bringing the wriggling woman to a halt. “You really think they’ll serve us, lookin’ like this?” He tilts his head meaningfully at the group’s bedraggled state, reasonably tailored practicalwear rendered more thread and scraps than fabric, hanging loosely together with the crusted ichor of late cave slimes.

“Yeah, maybe we should see about getting... a fresh set of clothes, first?” It’s always a surprise for _Beau_ to mention shopping, especially for _fashion_ as opposed to utilities, but...

Then again. 

Every thick-skinned adventurer has their limit, he supposes. 

Caleb glances down at his beloved coat and sighs. 

There’s a brief droop in Jester’s tail to accompany the slump of her shoulders, but she perks up again quickly enough at the prospect of new clothes.

“ _Fine,_ shopping, bath, and then… HOT PASTRY.” She doesn’t so much _break_ from Fjord’s grip as she simply drags him along with her, headed for the little market stalls lining the length of road. Beau saunters easily behind them, and to his right Molly grins and sends Yasha a little shrug before following with a swish of his tail.

The barbarian holds Molly’s embroidered coat draped over one shoulder, having taken it from him when it became apparent they were about to be covered in cave ooze, and if Caleb squints, he can just spot the faintest glimmer of a smile lighting the edges of her thunderous expression.

A heartwarming sight if ever he saw one.

At the tug of his sleeve, Caleb looks down. A beseeching pair of golden eyes gaze up at him, and he smiles back, reaching down to ruffle Nott’s hair.  
  
“We will go too, schatz, don’t you fret. I am sure there will be plenty of pretty trinkets on display.”

There’s a muffled noise of excitement from somewhere near his thigh and the smile grows to a gentle grin as they head on after the others. 

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Fjord’s saying something in a cautionary tone to his excitable companion, but Molly’s barely paying attention, choosing instead to direct his gaze towards the back of their little party, where a certain scruffy wizard is mussing up Nott’s hair beneath her hood. The action elicits a yelp from the woman, and there’s a muted scuffle. 

Words are exchanged, and then Caleb’s looking up, blue eyes twinkling with that lovely rare grin of his, and- 

Molly has to look away before his blush has the chance to make its way beyond the collar.

It’s ridiculous, really, and for once he’s ungrateful to the lack of coverage his blouse provides. 

Upon glancing around, he realises his dallying has left him a good few paces behind the rest, and he widens his strides to catch up, tail raising slightly with a flick to keep with the momentum.

Yasha’s crossing the street to inspect a delicate summer frock on display in a window, and Jester’s just noticed it too, face lighting up to the melody of Fjord’s tortured groans, and, oh, Beau’s hands are on her thighs as she cackles, and-

A hand closes around his tail.

Three million sparks burst behind his eyelids as they flutter shut, and his mouth barely has time to fall open before the grasp squeezes tight, and suddenly it’s like someone’s cast haste on him, world slowed all around, except he’s powerless to move his own limbs as the hold yanks him firmly back and into somebody’s waiting arms. 

The cart streaks past at top speed, a hair’s breadth from Molly’s nose, and somehow the shock of the near-scrape and the sharp pain from the pull only stokes the fire scorching the pit of his belly. A whimper leaves his lips, and his knees buckle, hitting the ground with a thump as the hand still grasping his tail tugs again at the motion. His hands join his knees just as the essential stampede of his friends arriving and fussing over him overwhelms his senses, Jester grabbing him by the chin and patting him down as Fjord interrogates Caleb, and _all Molly can focus on is that vice grip around his tail._

Little zaps of adrenaline shoot from the contact point directly to his core, and he just _knows_ how dark his flush must be, and there’s something dawning in Jester’s expression as she glances between Caleb’s arm and Molly’s face and finally down to Molly’s crotch, and Molly _just_ manages to scramble up on shaking feet and shake off the grip in time to watch her face split into the most distressingly wide and pointy grin he’s ever fucking seen outside of Labenda swamp.

Knowing full well that she’s about to scream to the stars, Molly preemptively clamps a hand over her mouth, claws pressing in _ever-so-slightly_ in warning. 

“R-right. Well, I’m... Exhausted.” He stretches, shudders, for once not as put on as it may seem, and if the reasons behind that are less than innocent then... Hey. 

What the group doesn’t know won’t scar them. 

“ _That’s_ enough drama for the day, think I’ll be taking a rain check on that shopping trip. See you all in the mo-”

Beau punches him in the shoulder, with every ounce of her usual restraint and tact, and Molly winces, hard. 

“What the _fu-_ ”

“No, dumbass!” She sounds genuinely ticked off, and Molly’s tail tucks inwards even as his stance broadens and he gives her a shit eating grin. “I _literally_ just watched you almost get... fucking…” Wide, expressive gestures, “Spread all over the road! Like… Like _really_ _shitty_ _strawberry jam!_ Could you just. _Not,_ for a second?!”

Molly bats his lashes.

“Why, _Beauregard._ ” The purr comes easier now that they’re in slightly more familiar territory. “And here I was under the impression you disliked me!”

Around them, the group sighs, eyes rolling and scathing remarks distributed as they begin to disperse again, though Yasha remains close and _almost_ manages to hover anxiously. It’s more of a vaguely distressed loom, if he’s being _perfectly_ honest, but the feeling comes across nonetheless, and Molly loves her. 

Beau’s groaning dramatically.

“Don’t _fucking_ try me.” This time, the punch is almost half-hearted, and Molly’s smile softens just a fraction. 

He turns, searching out Caleb’s eyes, but is met instead with the messy ginger mop of his hair as the wizard turns quickly to one side. Thankfully, Molly’s little… Problem, has mostly subsided by now, leaving him free to reach for the other’s arm and tug gently on the grubby sleeve. Flecks of dried slime flake away from the fabric like dandruff, and Molly absently rubs the tackiness from his fingertips.

“Hey, my saviour in slimy armour!”

A frown. Strange, the wizard had been in a _great_ mood up until a few minutes ago. There’d been a whole entire _grin,_ he swears!

“Mollymauk, _please._ ” If possible, Caleb hunches further in on himself. “Not now.”

Molly hesitates.

“Alright, but all I honestly wanted to say was-”  
  
This time, he’s cut off with a glare. 

“Do _not._ ”  
  
And with that, accompanied by a flick of goo-encrusted coat tails, Caleb is gone. 

It takes Molly just a fraction of a second too long to recover, and he’s about to chase after him when Yasha’s hand lands firmly on his shoulder. He looks up at her, ready to give the appendage a quick reassuring squeeze and shrug it off, but she shakes her head meaningfully, and something clicks in Molly’s adrenaline-addled brain. 

_He must have seen._

He can’t _not have noticed,_ Caleb is as observant as they come - when his nose isn’t buried in a book, anyway - and it’s highly unlikely he would have chalked Molly’s reaction entirely up to the shock of being almost rendered into, as Beau so charmingly put it, _“really shitty strawberry jam.”_

Distantly he registers the sensation of his tail coiling down one leg. It squeezes hard, a rather pathetic attempt at self-comfort, tip flicking back and forth across his ankle. Glancing up at Yasha through his fringe, he gives her a nod to show he’s got the message before turning away. A second tap to his shoulder has him hesitating, before the familiar cool weight of his coat is draped carefully over the same spot, and he turns back just enough to give her a nod of gratitude, wondering whether he’s hallucinating the pain behind his ribs.  
  
Then, he slinks away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: Molly is ill. Nothing too graphic, but it's there, so please take care!

Caleb’s heart is thumping a mile a minute. It’s like something’s lodged itself in his chest, and he can barely breathe. Molly had not been paying attention, that was all. He’d been focused on the shops, and the prospect of fresh clothing, it’s not _too_ surprising he failed to notice the _fucking carriage,_ _gods above he’d nearly been_ **_killed-_ ******

With shaking fingers, it’s a miracle he manages to snap and bring his familiar to his shoulder. The sweet sound of Frumpkin’s purr takes effect immediately as a bright furry head butts into his cheek, and Caleb reaches absently to scritch it around the ears.

“Caleb! Caleb, are you okay? Are you hurt?!” There are small green hands on his legs, patting frantically as high as they physically can.

 _“Ja, ja,_ Nott, I mean _nein,_ I am fine. It did not hit me.”

Her face, previously pinched with worry, relaxes somewhat. 

“Oh, good, because that was _really close!”_

He nods, because he’s not sure he trusts his voice for a reply.

“I mean… Wow!” Nott’s ears flick, and her face morphs to one of slightly terrified awe. “That was… I mean- I think his horn scraped the paintwork! It was _really close,_ Caleb!”

Caleb’s not sure who she’s trying to convince, here. He feels ill.

“And you were _amazing!_ Just… _yoinked_ him back! By the tail! He’d be _so fucking dead_ if you hadn’t!”

“Yes, Nott, I am _aware.”_ He just manages to grit out.

“...Wow!”

There’s a quick pause as she reaches for her flask, raising it in toast to him before taking a hearty swig. Only once the cork’s firmly back in place does she remark, “Bet he’s glad you spend so much time staring at him now.” 

Caleb’s face is of a temperature suitable for roasting marshmallows.

It is also very red. 

It is bright _fucking scarlet,_ in fact, which he knows because he’s had the considerable misfortune of glancing into mirrors at inopportune moments, and he’s well aware that he is a _very unflattering shade of strawberry right now, currently, at this very second, and he loves Nott to bits, he does, but if she doesn’t_ **_shut up-_ ** _  
_  
“Honestly though, I don’t think there’s _anyone_ out there that Molly wouldn’t want staring at him. He _loves_ being stared at. He stares at you too, though, right?”

_"Schatzi?”_

“Yes?”

“ _Please_ shut up.”

“...Yes.”

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The walk back to the inn is… Not fun. There’s something ugly curling in the pit of his stomach, and though Molly has no name for it yet, he’s decided he hates it already.

It lingers through rubbing himself down, cold water from the basin _depressingly_ ineffective at removing the accursed ooze, which seems to have permanently cemented itself to his skin, horns, jewellery and clothing.

 _Oh_ how he longs for the bathhouse. The concept of warmth and company right now is almost irresistible, and Molly’s never been one for, well, _resisting,_ but…

But.

There’s something far more viscerally instinctual pulling at his gut, demanding he stay inside; he’d be totally incapable of explaining it if asked, but he thinks taking himself back to the stability of the inn was probably the single most- Well. 

The _singular_ sensible thing he’s done all day. 

Which... In itself is horrifying, really, and he’s trying really hard not to think about what said newfound responsibility might mean for his mental state. 

Gods forbid he end up like poor Fjord, who could likely use a massage and a willow brew more than the party's weight in platinum.

Another fun fact Molly has the joy of learning about cave ooze is that when washed it becomes incredibly slippery.

He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised, but when his cloven toes utterly fail to gain _any sort of traction whatsoever_ against the now-damp-and-slimy wooden floorboards, it’s a helluva shock when he ends up faceplanting the basin itself, flipping it altogether as he scrambles for purchase, tail flailing wildly behind him. 

_Mollymauk Tealeaf, everybody,_ he thinks mournfully to himself as he drips and reaches for the last dry rag.

Hopefully he’s managed to catch the mess _before_ it got the chance to soak through to the kitchen below.

The actual passing of time between washing, pulling on his damp undergarments, and dragging his bruised aching body off to bed is distinctly fuzzy, but Molly really, _really_ cannot bring himself to give a single shit.

As his head hits the solid pillows, that he strongly suspects (if the smell is anything to go by) are more sawdust than they are down, the last thought that crosses his mind is that if Fjord wants the bed to himself tonight, he can _damn well prise it from Molly’s cold, dead, beautifully decorated fingertips._

  
A good ten hours later, he’s awoken from his fitful rest by the most excruciating pain he has _ever had the fucking joy of experiencing in his long two years of existence._

At first, he thinks he’s been stabbed, and he tries desperately to sit up, feeling for whatever’s impaled him- only to find slightly damp sheets and a bare stomach. 

It’s as if his own belly is trying to turn itself inside out, and for a good ten seconds he can barely breathe. After about a minute, he can see again, and by two he’s almost fully conscious.

The searing burn gradually abates to a dull, aching throb, not quite light enough to fade into the background, but not so loud as to occupy his full attention either. As soon as he’s aware of more than just white-hot blinding agony, the nausea hits. 

Stumbling to his feet and limping to the bathroom, he tries his level fucking best to ignore the return of the hellish cramps, and focuses instead on not projectile vomiting all over Fjord’s new ( _only_ ) set of clothes.

By some demonic bloody miracle, he makes it to the toilet in time to slam up the lid and expel his own fucking lungs.

Another wave of cramps brings with it more nausea, and he’s struggling to breathe between heaving retches and whimpers he can’t be fucked to suppress; the room is too bright, even in total darkness, and he’s torn between clutching at his pounding head and his burning stomach.

Molly sobs.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The explanation begins. I promise there is smut in here, I'm just incapable of shutting up.

“Molly, would ya _please-_ ” Fjord’s exasperated groan is cut off by yet another fit of retching from behind the bathroom door.

The half-orc shifts impatiently, and then sighs.

“Consider other people’s needs and lay off the ale, next time, yeah? I’ll be outside pissin’ in the bush if anyone asks.”

All he gets in response is a fresh round of sickly coughs and belches. 

Upon returning, he turns the corner and almost knocks noses with Beauregard. The monk is surprisingly bright eyed and bushy tailed - considering her _typical_ morning demeanour of a rabid grisly doused in itching dust - and she greets him with a friendly punch to the shoulder, grinning through the loose strands of her sleep-mussed topknot.

“Mornin’, big guy. Molly up yet?” She shifts her weight and scratches at one shoulder, yawning dramatically in a way that’s probably only _half_ exaggerated.

Fjord grimaces. “He’s got one helluva hangover, that’s for sure. Been clogging the bathroom all mornin’. I recommend the shrub across the road, by the way. Very private.”

The way Beau rolls her eyes is more than enough as an answer, nevermind the way her leg jiggles in place. 

“Fuck. Didn’t notice him drinking last night, went to bed pretty early, by his standards, ‘specially considering the whole, yaknow. Cart thing. You sure he’s hungover? Soup looked kinda shifty, cook’s probably senile, yaknow…?“  
  
Heavy brows furrow as the half-orc frowns. “You’re sayin’ you think it’s food poisoning…?” His voice trails off, and he half turns to her, curious.

Beau shrugs, and then shifts again, half-crossing her legs impatiently and bouncing on her toes just a bit. “Yeah, I mean. Why not? ‘S not like he makes a habit of drinking alone. Not for a while, at least.” At Fjord’s surprised eyebrow raise, she scowls. “What?!”

“Didn’t think _you_ made a habit of payin’ him so much attention, that’s all.” A knowing grin accompanies the words.

The glare he gets in return could’ve melted brass. “Fuck off. I’m going for a piss.”

“Tell the gardener ‘ullo for me!”

He’s awarded a rude hand gesture for his troubles.

At the table, Caleb is nursing a mug of something spicy and steaming, making a valiant effort at blocking Jester from his field of vision as she fiddles with the cover of the worn, yellowing tome he’s currently enraptured with. 

He seems more or less oblivious to the little pink beads adorning his hair, braided in among the somewhat sloppily tied ribbon, twine, bangles and dessicated flowers pilfered shamelessly from Yasha’s collection. 

“Fjord!” The grin she hits him with is radiant as usual, and her voice lowers to a stage whisper for the next few words, “Those guys in the corner are watching Beau pee through the window…” The words trail slightly as her nose wrinkles. “Like, I mean they’re _watching her_ through the window, is what I mean, not that she’s peeing through the window.” Her tone is almost disappointed. “That would be impressive, though! I think I’ll draw it that way instead, you know, when I tell the Traveller about it later.”

Fjord blinks, and makes a beeline for the nearest chair, reaching on his way past to ruffle the weirdly silken hair at the base of her horns. Her purr at the attention is gratifying. 

“Yaknow what, I’d say that’s her problem.” The chair creaks heavily as he sinks down, old wood unaccustomed to taking weight beyond that of the reedy local farmhands.

He graciously accepts the mug Jester pushes into his hands; a sniff reveals it to be some kind of warm spiced wine. Peering over the rim, he nods a good morning to the wizard, who has yet to glance from his reading.

“Molly’s ill, by the way. Just thought I should let you know. Presumed he’d been drinking, but Beau says he turned in early.” With a shrug, he brings the tankard to his lips.

“Food poisoning, perhaps?” Caleb, as he turns a page, eyes still glued to the book on the table. Fjord smiles regardless.

“Yeah, that’s what Beau said. Thinks the landlady’s a bit…” He taps at his temple and grins sheepishly. 

Jester wraps an arm about his shoulders, nodding sagely. “Yes, she is _prooobably_ …” A suggestive two-toned whistle and a wag of the indigo eyebrows as she draws little circles in the air by her head. “She does seem _very old.”_

For a few moments, the only sound is the rustling of paper as Caleb flips another page, and the chuckling of the men by the window. Then, Jester pushes to her feet, tail rising to pat Fjord on the shoulder as she goes. 

“I think I’ll just go see if he wants some water. Food poisoning sucks _ass._ ” 

Fjord nods. “Tell him sorry for me, would ya? I feel I was a tad rude, earlier. Just woke up, needed a piss, bathroom’s occupied… Yaknow how it is.”

Another radiant smile. “But of course, Oskar!”  
  
With one last pat of… _Presumably_ affection, she disappears up the stairs in a flourish of blue and pink lace. 

Fjord sighs.

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“Mollyyyy?” 

No reply.

Jester presses her ear as close to the door as she can get it, horn tips denting the ancient planking. 

“Mollyyy, I know you’re in there, the door is locked and you’re not in your room and you haven’t come downstairs and Fjord says you’ve got food poisoning and Beau is peeing through a window so I’ve come to see whether you want any water or no.” 

There’s a quiet, shaky sort of groan the other side of the door, which perhaps in some circumstances could be considered a laugh. 

Jester’s lips tilt down a little at the corners, and her tail flicks against the floor.  
  
“Molly? Please can I come in? I want to help you!” The last words are muffled as she smooshes her cheek into the wood.

After a few minutes, there’s a shifting, another faint groan, and the door creaks open just a crack. 

“ _Pheewwww,_ oh _no_ . It smells like stress and puke and _misery_ in here. Actually, it kinda reminds me of-”  
  
Molly holds up a hand to shush her before returning it to his mouth, pressing the knuckles to his lips and swallowing reflexively, “ _Don’t_ say it."

Jester’s expression drops.

“Oh, Molly…” She tiptoes around the wooden basin to where Molly’s leaning heavily on the toilet seat, now closed to the hole below. 

“What’s happening, Jess. It’s not a blood thing. I know it’s not a blood thing.” A pause, and his brows furrow, “Or at least… Not a blood thing like. A _blood_ blood thing, like _my_ blood thing, just thought-”

She cuts him off with a hand in his hair, scritching and rubbing behind his horns in a familiar comforting gesture. He butts instinctively into it, the purr rising in his chest raspy and painful from his morning spent retching over the privy. 

Curling her tail about his trim waist, and noting quietly that he’s shaking, she envelopes him in a hug. The motions continue in his hair, and after a while, the shaking lessens to a steady tremble, his head dropping to rest on her shoulder in a display of exhausted affection.

“Please, Jess?”

Her heart breaks.

“Oh, no no no no no, you don’t need to- Oh, oh gods… Don’t- it’s okay. It’s just… Talking about it will hurt, is all, and you’re hurting already, and I don’t want to… To...” 

There’s wetness on her cheeks, and she only notices when a droplet splashes onto Molly’s horn. She wipes it off before it has the chance to reach his skin.

She stops. Takes a deep breath.

“Has he… You know. Said anything?”

Molly visibly tenses.

“Just… Just for the record here, making sure we’re on the same page, by _“he”_ we are referring to…”

“Cale-?”

“ _Caleb,_ yeah. Thought so.” Molly nods, defeated, the motion bumping her jaw. He turns slightly and plants a kiss there in apology.

“Really _has_ been that obvious, then? Not just… Uhh… Paranoia?” He looks almost hopeful.

Jester bites at her lip, glancing away.  
  
“Yyyeeeeeeaaaahhhh… Kinda. I’m sorry…”

He’s still shaking.

“So… _That obvious._ ”

“Yeah.”

“You could tell.”  
  
“Yeah.”

“Could Fjord tell?”

“Yeah.”  
  
“Could _Beau_ tell?”

“Yeah.”

“And C-Ca- And _he_ just...

“...Yeah.” 

“ _Gods._ ”

“Yeah.”

Jester gives him a comforting squeeze, but Molly’s hand flies straight back to his mouth and he shifts slightly. She gently reopens the toilet lid, and moves her grip a little lower around his middle.

“Sorry.” He manages, after a few seconds of heavy breathing. “Just…”

“I know.”

“So… I presume… _He_ has something to do with…” He makes a broad gesture, encompassing his own sorry state, and immediately Jester shifts, fidgeting with the mat on the floor. She makes a noncommittal noise.

“Weeeellll… Not _exactly_ … It’s not like it’s his _fault…_ Really...”

“But he does have something to do with it?”

“...Kind-of-sort-of... yeah.”

“Right.” Molly heaves a sigh. “And what’s happening to me?”

She wipes away a few more tears before taking him gently by the shoulders and pulling him around to meet her gaze.

And explains.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been told this might be slightly confusing? I'm sorry if it is, Jester is just explaining the basics of the heatfic trope. It should become obvious as I continue to ramble on anyway, so please hold out hope.

_He doesn’t know how many hours pass before Fjord is banging on the door desperate for a piss, but at this point he has nothing left to throw up. Still his stomach clenches, and he dry-heaves miserably and waits for his roommate to leave._

_More time passes. Not as much, now, before Jester is knocking her characteristic little ditty, begging to be let in. He can hear the scrape of her horns against the woodwork, knows it all too well, and finally drags himself upright enough to reach the door before sinking back down to his spot by the privy._

_“Pheewwww, oh_ no _.” Her little blue button nose wrinkles sweetly. “It smells like stress and puke and_ misery _in here. Actually, it kinda reminds me of-”_

_He knows what she’s going to say before the words get the chance to leave her mouth, and his heart seizes horrifically in his chest. A fresh wave of agony washes through him, and he holds up a hand to stop her, desperately resisting the urge to heave over the toilet once more, despite all the difference it would make._

_“_ Don’t _say it.”_

_He doesn’t dare look, but the sound of her tail hitting the floor tells him all he needs to know._

_“Oh, Molly.”_

_Those two words are filled with so much emotion, he can barely decipher the meaning._

_Pity?_

_Sorrow?_

_Fear?_

_He swallows hard._

_“What’s happening, Jess. It’s not a blood thing. I know it’s not a blood thing.” A pause, and his brows furrow, “Or at least… Not a blood thing as in. A_ blood _blood thing, like_ my _blood thing, just thought-” He’s rambling, he knows he’s rambling, he just doesn’t have the words, and everything just hurts_ so much _and Molly is used to pain, don’t get him wrong, but this? This is something else, and he has no idea how to explain what he’s trying to explain, and his chest is seizing up again, and-_

 _There’s a hand in his hair, talons scraping_ just so _along his scalp. Careful fingers find the sensitive skin around the base of his horns, and begin rubbing soothing little circles, and it’s…_

_It’s really, really good._

_Slowly, the tension unwinds, and the involuntary purr is not as painful as he would’ve imagined. He lets himself sag forward into her arms, until his forehead is pressed to her shoulder, and to his relief, the attention doesn’t abate._

_Her silence, however, drags on._

_Dread begins to pool in the pit of his roiling stomach, cold and empty and anxious._

_“...Please, Jess?”_

_And suddenly, she’s fussing. In the most Jester way possible, she’s showering apologies and tugging sweetly at his hair and rambling excuses, until abruptly, she stops, cuts herself off, and takes a deep, calming breath that he feels more than hears as her soft chest rises and falls against his ear._

“Has he… You know. Said anything?”

_Molly’s heart stops._

_The next few minutes pass in a daze, until the tail wrapped around his waist gives a little squeeze, and that coupled with the anxiety is enough to send him over heaving again._

_He asks for an explanation._

_She gives him one._

  
  


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“I’m sorry, _how long?!”_

Jester winces, sympathetic.

“I mean, it sort of depends, sort of. Everyone’s different, right?” She fidgets sadly under his devastated glare, “I mean. Mine only lasts for like, a week! It is really super rare that it goes on for any longer than four - even my mum’s only lasts for three, and she’s like… _Literally famous_ for it, you know?” 

Molly smiles, weakly.

 _“The Ruby of the Sea is the bes-”_ He manages to rasp out before Jester’s shoving playfully at his shoulders. 

“Yeah, yeah, shut your stupid face.” She’s fighting a grin and losing.

He shifts gingerly, flicking the pins and needles from his tail where he’s been sat on it for the past half hour. 

“And it’s like... _this,_ every time…?”

At _this_ , Jester grimaces, and her hand squeezes down where it’s wrapped around his knee. 

“No… Well.” Fidgeting with her earring, she recrosses her legs, “ No. Not... _Exactly.”_

“I mean. I get the whole _“Desperately Horny”_ part of it,” he hesitates, gesturing, “But… Uhh...”

She winces again as he spreads his arms, nodding down at his decidedly _un-_ excited self.

“Yeeeah... I know. That’s kind of… That’s kind-of-sort-of where _he_ comes in, really.” 

His answering sigh is long-suffering and unsurprised. 

“Ah.”

“...Yeah.”

“I see.”

“Mhmm…” His friend dips her head apologetically.

Another sigh.

“Well. Do I still have the... _additional nonsense,_ ” He raises a meaningful eyebrow, ”To look forward to on top of all this, or is it more of a…” He gesticulates, “A trade-off sorta deal with the pain?”

At this, Jester brightens considerably. 

“Oh, yes, no, the rest of it still happens, just…”

“I’m paying for all the sex shit in advance?”

She grimaces.

“ _Ssssort-_ of-kind-of... yeah.”

“Right.”

It’s so sudden Molly barely has time to react, but he finds himself with an armful of damp tiefling. It takes only a few seconds for her tears to leak down onto his chest, and he rubs worriedly at her shoulders.

“Hey, hey! Look at me, darling, it’s okay! What’s going on? It’s not… That time of the year for you, too…?” He knows he sounds a little frantic, and more than a little ridiculous, but what with his friend’s heaving sobs and the way her fingers clutch at his back, he’s honestly more than a little concerned at this point.

“ _No_ , it’s _not_ , I just- I _swear_ Molly, I’m going to _kill_ him!” 

The poor thing’s shaking like a leaf, and the threat comes out more of a wail than a declaration. 

"Well. Well maybe not _kill_ him, I guess, but I _am_ going to smack him _really hard in the-"_

Molly cringes as one blue fist comes round to thump against his collarbone.

“Oh, I’m so _tired_ of it, he’s so _stupid,_ what the _fuck…!_ ” 

Try as he might, tears begin to sting the corners of his own eyes.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. It’s okay. He’ll notice you eventually, can’t stay blind forever, right? I mean, _look_ at you! _Has_ to wake up at some point, see what’s right in fro-”

“ _NO_ , Molly, not Fjord, he’s stupid _too,_ I don’t mean _him!”_

Molly’s heart sinks. He’s not sure where he was trying to go with that pathetic excuse for a diversion, feels guilty for even hoping for a _second_ she might fall for it. His tail sags to the ground and he swallows.

“I know.” The admission is soft.

She pulls back from his chest, and the fury in her streaming eyes catches him off guard. 

“Molly, he is _so_ stupid, I’m really, really, _really_ sorry! I want to smack his idiot butt _right in the face_ , **how** **_dare_ ** **he?!”**

She’s descended into infernal, teeth bared and pain evident in the creases of her brow.

“He doesn’t _mean it,_ love. He doesn’t know.”

“HOW doesn’t he know! He _has_ to know! You’re like, so, _so_ obvious! I think even _Nott_ knows!” He winces again. _Tactful as ever, Jessie._

For once, she seems to read the mood, and though the rage doesn’t quite leave her eyes altogether, she settles.

“I’m just-” A hiccup. _“I’m sorry.”_

His answering watery smile does nothing to quell her tears. If anything, they fall faster.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve said that, and you don’t need to be, sweet _._ It’s not your fault. Hells,” He makes some rather frantic hand motions, “ _I’m_ sorry you have to know how it feels.”

At this, she sobs aloud. 

“ ** _Assholes_ **. Both of them.” She sniffs, patting down her skirts for a hankie, which Molly presses into her hand. She expresses her thanks in a grateful nasally trumpet.

They both open their mouths to speak, but Molly shuts his, and gestures for her to go first.

“I’m going to tell them we’re staying here for a bit. Moving right now would be really dumb.” She cuts him off as his eyes widen in alarm, “ _No,_ Molly! You don’t know what it’s like. You’re going to stay in your room, and I’m going to bring you water, and I’m going to kick Fjord out into Ca-” Stumbling, just for a second, she pushes onward undeterred, “Into Nott’s room. They can roomie together, and play stupid drinking games or something, whatever. It will be very fun!”

He frowns slightly, but nods nevertheless. He knows better than to argue when Jester _really_ puts her hoof down, much as it sometimes pains him to admit.

“And I’m going to stay with you.”

His expression must say it all.

“Because… Well. You’re like, my best friend, and it’s really, _really_ horrible to be alone, and-” She trails off. “Wait, maybe Yasha. You probably want Yasha, don’t you, I’m sorry, I- I can go and get her, I-”  
  
His tail wraps around her wrist and tugs her firmly back to the floor. Once she’s close enough, he half-drags her into his arms. Somehow, the skin-to-skin contact soothes his screaming insides. 

“Yasha is… Yasha has other things she needs to do. She can’t be all tied up taking care of lil’ old me, and besides,” He grimaces, “If this is going to be as messy as you so… _Creatively_ described, earlier, I _really_ doubt I’d ever live that down. Frankly, _neither_ of us want that.”

There’s more he needs to say, other ways he should be reassuring her, but Jester’s smile dawns like a sunrise, effectively chasing away the last remnants of the morning’s agony.

“Okay.” Her nod is bright and her tone determined. “Okay. You’re in really good hands!” 

There’s a slight pause where they both stare at one another, processing the phrasing, before the tension breaks and they’re clutching at their sides, wheezing into one another’s shoulders.

After a good few minutes revelling in the freedom to breathe, Jester hauls herself upright, reaching down to grip Molly under the arms and pull him after. The manhandling flips something in his lower abdomen, and he feels heat rush rapidly to his face and stomach. Jester gives him a knowing look, and grins, before smooching him firmly on the forehead. 

“Right, you stink.” Molly snorts inelegantly, and Jester barrels on. “Wash yourself and go wait in the room, I’m going to go tell everyone else what’s happening.” 

Panic grips his chest, and involuntarily his hand flies up to grip her forearm.

“Wait-”

She hesitates, turning back to him, head cocked.

“There’s no reason they have to know… _Everything._ Yeah?” 

Her expression turns pitying. 

“Molly… They, they already _know_ …” She gestures. “Remember?” 

Taking a minute to fight back the irrational panic, he frowns and considers the situation. 

He’s never been ashamed of his needs, never been one for modesty. Modesty has no place in the circus, _or_ on the road.

So, _why,_ exactly, does the idea of his friends - no, fuck it - his _newfound-fucking-family_ learning of this ridiculous broken biology send shards of icy shame piercing straight through his ribcage to the squishy parts beneath?

“I’m not going to talk about _that_ , not really, don’t worry.”

His head flies up.

Jester is shifting anxiously from foot to foot. 

“I was just going to say that it’s that time of the year for you, that’s all, it wasn’t like I was about to go downstairs and be like “OH, HEY EVERYBODY, MOLLY’S GOT THIS HUUUGE CRUSH ON CAAALEB SO NOW HIS FEELINGS ARE ALL SCREWY AND IN ORDER TO FIX THAT HE JUST REALLY NEEDS SOMEONE TO _FU-”_

Molly clamps a hand over her mouth. 

“ _SSHHHHH._ _Literally_ never thought I’d see the day I was saying this, but would you _please_ keep it down, _my gods.”_

Bright blue fingers cover his own.

“ _M’sh shrry, a d’dn mni, I on’y mn tha-_ ” He removes his hand and she gasps a breath.

“I only meant that I wasn’t going to be a dick about it, that’s all!” There’s genuine misery behind the mirth in those pretty heather eyes, and it’s all Molly can do to heave a sigh and curl his lips into an exhausted smile. 

“Yeah. Yeah, alright, see you in a bit, love. Go knock ‘em dead.”

She grins.

“ _Figuratively_ speaking.”

She grins harder.

“Jess-”

“ _Yiss-okay-love-you-bye!”_

He bares his fangs playfully but she’s already halfway down the hall, laughter echoing up the wooden staircase.

In a sort of daze, he reaches the basin, refilled the night before and still unused. He stares into the tiny cheap mirror as he swills cool water in his mouth and spits into the toilet, noting the strong magenta flush riding high across his cheekbones and spilling down onto his chest.

Molly sighs, and rests his back against the door. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jester Explains 2.0, But This Time It's Worse

“No, really, thank you ma’am, we’ll be quite alright with just the drinks.”

His grin is forced at this point, and Beau’s trying half-assedly to suppress her snickering in the background. Fjord can sense a headache coming on, encouraged by both the interaction and the god-awful smell of burnt fruit wafting in from the kitchen’s general vicinity. 

“Yeh’re _sure,_ dearie? Only I’ve got this _lovely_ tart all ready and warm, chock full’eh goodies, _perfect_ for a growin' boy such as yerself-”

Beau snorts.

“Really, ma’am, you’re too kind, we couldn’t possibly-”  
  
“ _Nonsense!_ I’ll be havin’ none of this false modesty!” She leans forward on her cane and bops him on the nose. “I’ve seen how you kids are, always eyein’ up me goods, don’t think I haven’t noticed, and they’re not gonna go quietly disposin’ of themselves.”

The urge to succumb to the horror and shut his eyes on their gracious hostess and her potentially deadly pastries is nigh-overwhelming. 

Caleb has joined Beau. He’s _slightly_ more subtle, and Fjord supposes he should count his blessings where he can, but the blasted old hag is deaf as a doornail and half-blind to boot, so really it’s only _him_ suffering the humility of his friends’ cackling, and _somehow_ this is managing to instil more spite than gratitude into his _determinedly patient soul,_ and -

And the familiar sound of boots taking stairs two at a time greets his ears like the sweetest of music. 

“Oooh, are we talking about pastries?” Jester stops, frowns, nose wrinkling. “Something smells-”  
  
Fjord wordlessly shoots her a desperate wide eyed grimace.

“...Good! Something smells _greeeeaaat!_ Is that…” She sniffs, dramatically, “...Black… Berry…?”

The wizened little half-elf _beams._

“Why yes! Blackberry, n’ hops, n’ ginger, n’ bloodroot, n’...”

Jester’s smile is growing more and more strained as the list goes on. Somewhere behind him, Beauregard whispers _“Bloodroot?” -_ to which Caleb’s response is... _Presumably_ a shrug, based on the rustle of his jacket.

“I would _love_ to try some of your _delicious smelling_ pastries, Ms…?” Jester trails off, uncertain, and their hostess breaks off her mumble with a start.

“Mrs Gifikil, me lovely! Be with yeh right away!”

She bustles off, muttering to herself under her breath, and Jester and Fjord share a _look._

Beauregard guffaws.

 _“Ooooh, yes, don’tcha know better than to eye up a lady’s goods unless you’re plannin’ on partakin’, young man?_ ” She wheezes out between gasps.

One look at his dour expression and she's doubled over wheezing all over again.

 _“Fuck,_ man.” Caleb, chuckling quietly, his soft Zemnian lilt out of place as always on the colloquial slang. 

_“So!”_ The outburst interrupts the hilarity somewhat, and Jester follows it with a brisk clap of her hands. “We’re gonna be staying here for a _while,_ so we should _probably_ make nice with the landlady.”

Fjord’s eyebrows shoot up, and he’s opening his mouth to reply when,

“I’m sorry, _what?_ I thought we were leaving in the morning!”

In a way, he’s grateful for Beau’s abrasive attitude, it saves him from having to ask all the _concerning questions._

Jester grins, but there’s that steely glint to her eyes that belies the chipper countenance. Her tail falls still behind her, the tip twitching _ever-so-slightly_ back and forth, a tell Fjord has come to recognise as “Don’t You Fucking Fuck With This, I'm Serious.”

“Well, Molly’s _really_ _not very well,_ so we’re gonna be here a _teensy_ bit longer than we were thinking before.” 

It’s possible to pinpoint the moment Beau realises something’s up by the way her posture shifts from casual feistiness to battle-ready. Fjord can feel his own doing the same. 

“What’s wrong with Mollymauk?” Eyes dart to Caleb, who’s staring intently at Jester. 

He glances back just in time to watch Jester’s own gaze flicker darkly for just a second, lips twitching downwards a fraction before she turns back to Fjord. 

“It’s his _time of the year,_ if you know what I mean.” 

Fjord’s eyes widen. 

“Oh.”

“Wait, wait wait wait- his _what now…?”_ Beau looks honestly baffled. 

A foreboding wave of dread washes over Fjord.

One glance at Caleb’s bemused expression confirms it. 

When he turns back to Jester, she’s staring at Caleb again, scowl absent and in its place a look of dawning comprehension... Quickly morphing into a wicked smirk. 

Fjord drops his head into his hands with a groan. 

“Weeellllll,” She begins, with the air of a distinguished academic, and Fjord focuses _really_ hard on inverting his ears, “It’s mostly a tiefling thing, really, mostly, but there’s a time eeevery year where we get... Heh...” She hesitates, “Reeeeally really super needy, and _basically_ we need to _hurrm hurrm hurrm,_ or it’s like, bad for us, and we get _super_ _ill.”_

For a blissful second, he thinks she’s done, before she continues with all the subtlety of a brick, “And by _‘hurrm hurrm hurrm’_ I mean have lots and lots of _super messy sex.”_

He chances a peek through his fingers at the humans’ gobsmacked expressions. 

Beauregard looks torn between horror and morbid intrigue, and Caleb…

Caleb looks like he’s just bitten down on a ghost pepper.

His face is an unhealthy shade of crimson, and the poor guy looks to be about three _‘hurrm hurrm hurrms’_ away from suffocating on his own saliva. 

“Also,” Jester bulldozes on, oblivious to her audience’s impending conniptions, “If we’re like, super in love with somebody and they don’t love us back,” A wink that she probably thinks is subtle, “We get really really _really_ super ill, and that sucks _balls._ Everything’s all hot, and cold, and _sucky,_ and _everything_ hurts. It’s also like, really really dangerous, because if there’s no one to take care of us, we can die from dehydration or heart failure, so basically tieflings can like, _literally die_ from a broken heart, and isn’t that just _super romantic,_ don’t you think?”

The horror in Beau’s expression is winning out.

“Romantic. Yeah.” She looks like she’s going to be sick.

“But don’t worry, I’m looking after Molly, so he’ll be totally okay. We’re probably lucky the landlady is deaf, though!”

Caleb, predictably, chokes. 

Fjord is quick to slap him on the back, stopping only when the human holds up a weak thumb and cringes away from Fjord’s hand. His face is, impossibly, darker.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Look! This fic has sex in it!

Heaving a sigh of relief as the door clicks shut behind him, Molly picks his careful way across his and Fjord’s belongings, strewn haphazardly across the room in evidence of last night's exhaustion.

There’s a strange sort of… Tension, building in the back of his mind, putting him on edge.

He'd dressed after washing up, but now the fabric feels scratchy and uncomfortable against his skin, and he resists the irrational urge to glance over one shoulder in favour of shrugging smoothly out of his overcoat. Undoing the buttons on his boots poses a challenge; he doesn’t feel comfortable ducking his head and rendering himself blind to the room for the duration of time it takes to fiddle polished wood through the loops, but eventually he’s able to shimmy them down without issue. 

At a glance, his claws could do with a fresh coat of polish and a good scratch on some posh bastard’s carpet. They’re getting long and slightly tatty around the tips without anything to shed the caps on, and his cleft hooves are a little thick through weeks spent in shaped leather. He hasn’t had the time nor resources to paint those, not for a year and a bit since he left the circus. 

He flops backwards onto the bed with a weary exhale. 

His throat is scratchy and slightly painful still, but the fever has mostly subsided. He finds himself missing the heat of Jester’s touch, _wishing for a hint of Caleb’s_ \- His abdominal muscles cramp up for an excruciating second at the thought before he chases it away, aided not a little with reminiscences of his _dear_ fellow tiefling’s claws in his hair and at his back. 

The thought alone sparks a coil of warmth in the pit of his stomach, and he shivers hard against the sheets - the cool brush of their fabric over his skin hypersensitized to the point of discomfort. Molly wriggles some more, in a futile attempt to find himself a reasonable position. 

She’d said she’d… Take care of him. 

Just what would that entail, precisely?

He’d been ho- _presuming_ she’d meant that she’d help alleviate some of the more _pressing_ symptoms of the heat, so to speak, giving him that touch he’s craving _so desperately_ and perhaps the sort of friction he _really, really fucking needs right now up against his-_

Molly glances down.

Fuck.

Well.

He shifts again, this time pressing his thighs against his nagging erection. More concerning, perhaps, is the distinct cool brush of air against his ass, sharp enough to suggest dampness, or…

Jester had mentioned something about slick, hadn’t she? Something about natural lubricant being something humans were sorely (hah!) lacking in, at least when it came to _one_ set of genitalia. 

Tieflings, he’d been thoroughly assured, were in possession of proper anatomy.

He’s never encountered _this_ particular quirk of said anatomy before during any of his previous trysts. Another “heat thing”, according to Jester, and Molly is _really starting to loathe that word._

He should be getting up, finding a clean rag from his pack, he knows. The wetness between his thighs is going to become an issue, and sooner or later he’s going to end up making a mess of himself and the sheets, which will likely cost them extra to clean, and- 

“Mnh.” The warmth staining his chest and face swoops lower, and Molly shivers again. It’s a strange sensation; familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time - he’s experienced this before, of course he has, but never to _quite_ the degree of intensity he’s dealing with here and now. 

With an effort, he heaves himself up, propping himself on his elbows, and gingerly wriggles his hips down the bed until his feet touch the ground.   
  
Ignoring the flare of stimulation the movement provides to the best of his ability, he grits his teeth, pushes upwards, and...

Wobbles dangerously.

He staggers hard into the wall, tail thwacking painfully against the surface as he flails, drunk on the sensations. Leaning on the rickety old desk to catch his breath, a tense few seconds pass where he’s unsure whether or not his own knees will take his weight. He takes a deep breath, thoroughly steeling himself before beginning to make his way to the worn leather satchel where it's been dumped unceremoniously in the corner, all the way on the opposite side of the room. It's an eternity before he's reached it, its carefully embroidered patterns swimming before his gaze, and he pointedly ignores them in favour of leaning down, reaching for the ties, until-

  
  


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The commotion of Caleb’s coughing fit is interrupted by a muffled thump from the floor above, complicated enough in its execution that it’s clear the instigator put up a bit of a fight on the way down, and all heads in the room swivel promptly towards Jester. 

“Ah. I’ll just go make sure he hasn’t hit his head!” 

She ignores her companions’ deeply troubled glances, and swivels on her heels, heading briskly up towards the source of the noise. 

Silence greets her as she arrives on the landing, but the closer she gets, the more obvious the faint sounds become from behind the wooden barrier. 

Now.

She might be a little frenetic, sometimes, maybe, but that absolutely does _not_ mean that Jester is _totally_ incapable of recognising when a situation calls for tact. 

In fact, she decides to be _extra_ tactful and makes sure the creaking thump of her boots against the floorboards is _especially_ _loud_ as she stomps right up to the door, turns the key, and flings it open. 

“Hey, Molly, are you- _Uh_ oh. _”_

The sight that greets her is… Admittedly something that will be keeping her awake for a good long while.

Lavender skin, damp with perspiration and adorned here and there with little golden studs, glinting and twinkling in the low light. His sash, worked loose and pooled about his waist, allows the folds of his blouse to fall open, showing off the neat patterning of scars to match his usual neckline.

Chains and charms jingle softly as Molly tosses his head, dark hair streaking his face. It's scrunched quite sweetly in a complicated expression torn somewhere between bliss and agony. The crimson of his eyes is just barely visible beneath long lashes, and the colour matches the little trickle of blood flowing from his lip to his chin almost _perfectly_ where one fang pierces the skin, tail thumping frantically to and fro beside him. 

Jester’s eyes trail downwards, following the line of one toned arm to where it grips the front of his leggings. With the force it's exerting, she’s surprised he doesn’t seem to be in pain, merely twisting in discomfort as he tries desperately to relieve some of the pressure. 

“Jester, love?”

She snaps out of her shamelessly appreciative gaze, and meets his eyes, still cracked barely open, but turned apologetically up at the corners in an attempt at a smile. 

“Oh, what did you _do,_ stupid?” She’s over there in a second, shaking herself from her reverie. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me?”

The only response she gets is a low whine and a slight shifting of the hips, fabric straining beneath his grip. A brush of her thumb across his cheek has him pressing into her touch, and she croons down at him, involuntary purr rising in the back of her throat.

“ _Tut tut,_ Molly.” Jester smiles at him, watches as his eyes fall shut in bliss, before reaching swiftly downwards to replace his hand with her own. Understandably, Molly yelps, eyes flying wide, and she shushes him, gentle and sure, presses a tender kiss to his hair.

He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling in short, quick gasps, so she continues the soothing motions across his hair and cheek with one hand even as the other begins to stroke. The noise that falls from Molly’s open mouth is as much a snarl as it is a desperate keen. 

“ _Please!_ Ohhh…” Distantly, Jester notes that his eyes have slipped closed. His lithe torso rolls in time with her ministrations, hips pressing up into her touch. “Jester, please. Pleasepleaseple- _a-aAAANNFH-!_ ”

As lovely as his begging is, Jester doesn’t feel it quite compares to the sounds he makes as she grinds down with the heel of her hand, massaging gently like she would a stiff muscle. His hips buck, desperate and wild, and she’s startled from her focused daze when the familiar taut length of a tail smacks hard into her thigh. Grinning, she leans down to capture his mouth with her own, runs her fingers through his fringe one last time, and easily catches the errant appendage with her free hand. 

Molly’s lips break from hers as he tosses his head back and yells.

Jester laughs, releasing his dick to cover his mouth. 

“Shhh! We’re barely started yet!” 

Behind her hand, little whimpers continue to spill out, and the vibrations from the noise send lightning racing down her spine. It’s a heady feeling, powerful and vulnerable all at once, and Jester _loves it._ She traces a line up from the mid-length, and his claws carve grooves into the floorboards.

“Gonna- _fuck, Jess, gonna-!”_ And with that, he’s arching off the floor, lips parted around a near-silent scream and sharp incisors piercing her hand as he comes.

This was a _brilliant_ idea, something in the back of her mind informs her, helpfully.

Quiet whimpers spill over, and she removes her hand to admire him. He really does suit the _Absolutely Fucking Wrecked_ look, and that same fond something swells with a feeling akin to pride in her chest.

“Come on, you big sweetie.” In a movement similar to the one she pulled in the bathroom, Jester slips her hands beneath his arms and _hoists,_ and if his arousal had been obvious the _first_ time round, well.

She keeps up the soothing rumble in the back of her throat, and runs one hand through his hair; a futile attempt to quieten his breathy moans as he clings to her like a lifeline.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hella past my bedtime, so pardon any errors here. Things are heating up.

They make it to the bed, somehow, and Jester takes one look at his desperate expression and throws him onto the sheets. The wind is knocked from his lungs, and through the haze of lust, he manages a sort of half-grin.

“Jester.”  
  
His tone is almost commanding, and she decides she likes the sound very, _very_ much.

“Oh shush, you. I’m coming.” She pauses in the process of swinging her leg over his, expression contemplative, “Or I will be, anyway. Soon. Hopefully.”

The growl that escapes Molly’s throat is feral, and Jester laughs, takes a second to wriggle forward enough for a nicer angle, and crushes their lips together.

If Molly had visible pupils, she thinks, they’d be rolling. In fact, she’s pretty certain they _are,_ if the way those pretty lashes flutter closed is any indication at all. And it totally is.

“What do you need?” She sing-songs, letting her weight fall back into Molly’s still-very-much-interested lap.

Any response he would’ve given is muffled in her own chest as she tips herself forward once more, pressing her cleavage to his face and delighting in the way he catches on automatically. Sloppy kisses are pressed to bright skin, travelling up and around, and she moans, loud and unabashed as he bites down, right on that juncture where the meat of her shoulder begins. 

She’s quick to reward him with a rock of her hips, and he breaks his contact to whine, long and lovely, magenta-bitten lips brushing the side of her neck, and it lasts all of three seconds before Jester’s wriggling off and away. A broken sob escapes him, and she’s quick to press a kiss to his cheek in apology, drawing back to wriggle down her underwear. 

They’re a gorgeous pair, her favourite shade of garish-pink-and-lacy, and she doesn’t doubt their removal is imperative to their health. 

_...Or, maybe their continued existence,_ she corrects herself, eyeing Molly’s flicking tail and wide eyes warily. The thought makes her giggle, which Molly seems to like, and she drops them to the floor, forgotten. Her corset goes next, relatively simple in its fastenings. One tug to the bow and it’s easy enough to shimmy loose, and Jester heaves a sigh of relief as she breathes out.  
  
“Ugh, _Traveller,_ why are all the prettiest dresses so _tight._ ” She groans and reaches up to rub at her chest, smirking slightly at the low rumble from the bed.

“Jess, darling, you’re gorgeous, truly - but _please_ come here.”

She laughs, delighted, preening as she saunters back. “I know, but thank you.” She’s there at his side now, towering over him where he lies panting, claws fisted in the sheets. Leaning over, she taps him on the nose and pops the buttons on her dress, letting it slip and join the lace on the floor. “You’re very pretty too, you know that, don’t you?”  
  
A lazy grin that’s just a little too soft around the edges, a shameless glance down, and Molly tells her, “Yes.”  
  
So Jester does what any sane and sensible person would do, and swings her leg right back on over, wastes no breath with words this time as she rocks down hard against the damp patch at the front of his leggings. Molly _keens_ , hands flying up to grip her hips, claws marking lovely indents in the softness there. She rocks harder; focused on Molly as she _totally_ is, she’s far from above angling herself to better abuse her clit. 

“Fffuuuuck, _Molly._ That’s it, yeah, you are so _GOOD,_ **_nngh_ ** _.”_ The groan is more of a growl, really, but it’s hot so she does it again and grinds her hips in a tortuously slow circle. 

_“Shit.”_ Is Molly’s eloquent response, and she reaches out almost unconsciously for his face. Cupping his chin and brushing a thumb across his lips, she’s far from surprised when they part to allow her entrance.  
  
“Mmhm, just like that, _show me those teeth.”_ There are so many hisses packed into the last half of that sentence, it’s halfway to infernal of its own accord. Molly obeys, pulling his upper lip back in a snarl that manages to somehow come across as submissive regardless, and Jester is _overjoyed._  
  
She grins, drunk on the deep little noises, and leans in close, brushes the shell of one pointed ear with her lips as she purrs, “ _Good_ boy.”

And with that Molly’s wailing again, quieter now, almost pained as his hips buck desperately upwards, damp spend seeping through the thin fabric of his trousers and up against her heat. 

Jester’s tail flicks behind her, sharp motions further betraying her impatience, and she leaves him no time at all to catch his breath before sliding her hands up his chest, tipping forward once more to catch his open lips with hers. It takes a whole two seconds for him to respond, but when he does it’s _just_ this side of urgent. Now they’re less distracted, she has time to properly focus on the kiss, take a second to pay attention to how they work together, and…

And Molly kisses like he cares, because _of course_ he does. How could she ever have pictured otherwise? 

Mostly when she’d previously envisioned it - and she _has_ previously envisioned it - she’d expected bumping teeth, growls, the taste of blood on her lips, and although that tang is there, the sting of pain to accompany it... _isn't,_ and with a start she recalls the way his teeth had sunk into his own lip when she’d first arrived.

Her heart threatens to burst, and she rapidly deepens the kiss from chaste to something far more heated, laving at the puncture wound with little kitten licks, pink forks of her tongue darting out to catch occasionally against his fangs, and Molly groans. He’s been quiet, since his last release, but another roll of her body against his confirms his arousal hasn’t abated in the slightest. 

“What do you want me to do, Molly?” She asks, simply, murmurs less-than-quiet against his bitten lips as a tail drifts shakily to wind around her own. “What do you need?”

“Need- _mmfh~"_ Jester gives him a moment of desperate rutting before she reaches to pin him firmly.  
  
“Words, Molly.”  
  
The broken little cry is expressive, but not quite what she’s looking for, so she lifts her hips.  
  
“JESS-” There are hands grasping at her sides, claws drawing faint teal lines in her skin. “Jess, Jess _please, Jess, gods,_ need you.”  
  
“Where, Molly?”  
  
 _“In me,_ damnit, _fuck-!”_ He doesn’t get any further because Jester has directed her focus to rewarding his good behaviour. His growled frustration breaks, cracking into a vulnerable little mewl as she grinds her hips down _hard._

It almost kills her to pull away, but pull away she does nevertheless, and again Molly cries. 

“Shhh, shh shh, it’s okay!” She soothes, immediately replacing the pressure with her hand. In the moment, she curses Molly’s attachment to these particular leggings, as she hurries to unlace the sides. It feels like an eternity before the ribbons are pulling free, and Jester wastes no time in peeling the fabric from damp lavender hips. 

Patting at his thigh to indicate he should _raise_ said hips, she waits very patiently for a few seconds before repeating the gesture, a little less gentle. After the third smack, Molly complies. His thighs are shaking, she notes fondly, as she slips a hand beneath his ass, carefully avoiding what she knows to be a _very_ sensitive area at the base of his tail until such a time as when her wrist is no longer in danger of being crushed under the very ass she’s so graciously agreed to wreck. 

Deftly, she undoes the back button, allowing patterned fabric to fall away from the thrashing appendage, and wastes no more time in freeing what she’s sure is a _very_ uncomfortable erection. 

If Molly’s low moan of relief is anything to go by, she would be right, and she smiles pityingly as she lets his hips back to the mattress. 

Leaving said uncomfortable erection bobbing enticingly in front of her nose. 

It really is a _lovely_ dick, she thinks to herself, and then repeats the statement out loud as she reaches for it. It’s a beautiful deep shade of fuscia right now; her favourite colour. Of course, the dark flushing probably means it aches something _terrible,_ so she decides to have mercy, wrapping her fingers around the shaft. There’s a broken wail and a thump from overhead, and she looks up to check Molly hasn’t hit the suspicious pillows _too_ hard. 

He hasn’t; his tail is still thrashing wildly, and so Jester runs a thumb up and over the head of his dick. One hand leaves her shoulders to drop heavily over his own eyes, and she grins.

“Jess _iieee…”_

_Jessie’s_ having _fun_ . The hand not currently occupied in mapping out every ridge of keratin on that frankly _gorgeous_ cock trails suggestively up one shivering thigh. Molly’s leg jumps, and he groans long and low as the lazy swipe becomes one very determined finger, tracing an outline around his sac and _down,_ down to his perineum where it stops.

She’s not sure what exactly compels her to pause, but she looks up from beneath her lashes to meet Molly’s searing gaze, smiling. Molly moans and nods, before letting his head fall back once more, which is frankly all the encouragement she needs. 

Dragging her hand lower still, gathering slick where it’s pooled between his cheeks, Jester crooks two fingers to brush Molly’s fluttering hole. There’s a cry overhead, and she smiles as she presses in. 

It’s tight, yes, but not nearly as tight as she knows this particular hole could be, and biology's ensured its cleanliness. The way is eased spectacularly by the slick, glistening in the low light, hot and silky beneath her fingertips - scented similarly to her own, but rich in the undertones she recognises to be pheromones.

In short, it might just be the _sexiest thing Jester’s ever experienced,_ and without further ado she drops to her elbows and shoves her face between trembling thighs. Distantly, she’s aware that Molly’s yelling again, but the only sensation she registers besides the sticky-sweet-warm is a hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer and fumbling for her horns. She laughs, replacing her fingers with her tongue and pushing the forks apart to drag along his insides, and the vibrations of her laughter seem to do it because suddenly there’s a flood of slick on her tongue and a death grip on her scalp. 

“ **FUCK** , Jester! Fuck!”

Molly’s hissing in infernal, hips rocking hard against her face, and Jester reaches to bat his hand from where it’s come to rest on his weeping cock. She replaces it with her own before returning to the task at hand; pushing her tongue as deep into Molly’s ass as it will go. She’s pretty certain _Molly’s_ weeping, at this point, so she squeezes his cock almost soothingly. This doesn’t help, apparently, because he bucks hard, and she pulls away, annoyed. 

**“Keep. Still.”** She growls, and re-purposes the hand gripping his dick to hold his hips in place. 

Ignoring the whines of protest, she brings the other one down to rub at his perineum, and the whine trails off into a whimper. With a wriggle of her hips and a flick of her tail, she’s back in position, this time holding him steady. Her tongue flicks out, and she begins to lick at his hole, pushing in _very_ slightly before darting away, grinning at the frustrated noises it elicits. The next time she plunges in, she adds two fingers, crooking them _hard_ as soon as they’re past his entrance so that they rub across his prostate, and she supposes she should be glad of Molly’s thighs serving as earmuffs if the muffled screams that _do_ get through are any indication. His hips buck again, but this time she pushes him right back down, growling against his core and redoubling her fingers’ efforts, until eventually there’s a long, drawn out cry, another gush of slick, and the grip around her head slackens and falls away. 

Sound returns, and Jester blinks. Sitting up, slightly dazed, she bites her lip at the sight before her. Molly’s face is that pretty shade of magenta she's decided she adores- it really does bring out his eyes. They're half-lidded and gazing blearily back up at her. He’s panting hard, dark curls wild, and his expression is so _beautifully_ fucked-out that when her hand flies to her clit it’s purely instinctual.

“ _Nh_... Nuh-uh.”  
  
She stops her movement, but leaves her hand where it is, pressing hard to relieve some of the pressure. 

Molly looks _slightly_ more coherent, if very tired. 

He’s also grinning, and it’s gorgeous.

“C’mere.”

Jester doesn’t need to be told twice. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, new chapter's up! :P  
> Hope you like tail porn.

Molly’s still hard, and Jester spares this fact a sympathetic wince before shuffling hurriedly forward, careful not to trample anything as she clambers to straddle his chest. 

To her credit, she manages to refrain from just suffocating him with her thighs.

To _his_ credit, Molly just makes a sort of disbelieving grunt and drags her bodily onto his face, and with a squeak and a giggle, Jester settles comfortably. 

Quick gasps of hot breath send shivers along the fuzz between her legs, the teal of her skin flushed to a warm purple fit to match Molly’s, and a long dark tongue flickers deftly out to strike at her clit.  
  
Oversensitive from the buildup, Jester lets out a moan of appreciation, rocking shakily against his face. The spade of her tail lashes once, twice behind her before she manages to get control, bringing the shuddering length snaking down to slip neatly between her companion’s thighs. Molly cries out loudly against her heat, and she laughs through the ensuing vibrations. 

“Yeah, M- _Mollymauk- mmmh,_ **yes.** ” The infernal is entirely unintentional, but the growl she receives in response is _more than worth it._

“ **You like that, then?** ” She grins, raspy hisses coming out just a _little_ breathy. “ **You like hearing me l-like this?** **_Aaahh~_ **” The tongue is back, writhing little circles against her clit and parting her lips with the forks. 

“ **You like hearing me tell you- tell you that- that you are the most** **_needy_ ** **fuck I’ve had in-** **_nnh-_ ** **months?** ”

Molly snorts. “ **I’m the** **_only_ ** **fuck you’ve had in months, sweetheart. Not many-** **_mnh-_ ** **not many pretty strangers to pick up on the road.** ” 

It’s all she can do to keep her tail moving, spade dipped to rub underneath him while the length undulates gently along his dripping cock.

“ **Oh I beg to differ, Mollymauk-** ” And the way his name sounds in her mother tongue makes _her_ insides twist, she’s not surprised at the startled groan it elicits from her partner, “ **After all, we were strangers once, and I could pick** **_you_ ** **up one-handed.** ”

He laughs and she cries out, tail writhing a _little_ harder than intended, and Molly’s laughter tapers off into a shocked yelp when the spade smacks firmly across his sac. 

“S-Sorry! Are you-” 

Molly cuts her off, _“Do that again.”_

Jester grins, and does.

He makes a sort of broken sob, and closes his lips over her clit, sucking hard as she stiffens, squeaking a bit at the unexpected pressure. She pitches forward, tail dragging heavily behind, and he licks her through his groans; once, twice, three times, hard and fast - _just how she likes it_ \- and Jester’s _gone_. 

The shout that leaves her mouth is more of a snarl, laced heavily as it is with infernal as she rides out her release, Molly - fucking _godsend_ that he is - keeps up the suction all the while, tongue flickering down occasionally to lap at her entrance.

At long last, when the sensitivity gets too much, she pulls away, and the pop Molly’s mouth makes as it leaves her is obscene. She grins, panting, and shimmies down to plant her mouth firmly over his, tasting herself on his lips and his tongue.

“That was lovely, thank you. You are very good at this.”  
  
Molly smiles, delighted. “Why thank _you,_ dear. Practice makes perfect.” 

She cackles. “I would like to ride you into the mattress now, if you don’t mind.”

“Can’t say I do!” The breathy quality of his lilted tone betrays his desperation, despite the casual nature of the words. “Please, go right ahead! ‘M all yours.”

With one last nip to his lips, she slides down his body, shifting and shifting in an attempt to find the right angle-

And then she spots his tail on the bed. 

It’s thrashing, has been the whole time apart from a brief few moments after each orgasm. Her mind flashes back to her thoughts while she freed him from the confines of his pants, and she can hear the grin in her own excited gasp. 

Molly goes very still.

“Jester, love, not that I don’t trust you with my life, but-”  
  
She shoves a finger over his mouth. “Shhhhhhh shh shh shh, you’re going to love this I promise. Now lay back.”

Licking the finger, he complies, only a _little_ gingerly, and Jester clambers off. The plaintive noise he makes is a little heartbreaking, and he grabs her hand to bring it back to his face. 

_“Shhhhh,_ honestly!” With a laugh, she gives his fingers a squeeze and pulls free before spinning on the spot and swinging her leg back on over. Now it’s Molly’s turn to draw a breath, finally on the same page. Jester wiggles her ass, waves at him with her tail, and grins devilishly over one shoulder before settling down so that his cock is trapped beneath her. 

Given the lack of warning, she thinks his squeak is understandable.

“Okay, legs apart! Show me what I’m working with here.”  
  
Molly complies, hips jerking slightly as the position shifts. 

“Perfect!” And with no further ado, she slips her hand between his thighs and bypasses his hole entirely, reaching instead for the appendage behind. 

_“FUCK!”_ Is his eloquent response as her fingertips meet the sensitive underside. Jester grins and loosens the pressure a little, canting her clawtips _ever-so-gently_ back and forth. His thighs are shaking with exertion, and he’s clearly trying _hard_ to stay still, and Jester suspects this has less to do with the fact that she’s told him to and more to do with the way that every single little movement provides an extra dose of overstimulation. 

Her heart flutters in her chest. 

“J-Jessie… _Jester!”_ He’s taut as a wire, poor thing, and with a huff she takes mercy. Immediately, Molly collapses back down into the mattress, panting, before arching right back up again as she grips him tight around the base. 

_“FUCKING-_ **_Jester!”_ **The infernal’s back, and it’s Jester’s turn to shudder. Sure, perhaps to anyone else it would be painful, but the harsh sounds of her name on his forked tongue send jolts of power racing down her spine. 

Carefully, oh-so-carefully, she lets up her grip, sliding fingers inch by inch downwards until the pads are flush against that little dip beneath where his tail meets his ass. Her touch is featherlight, but from the sounds coming from the headboard anyone would think she was torturing him.  
  
_“Mmmmmngh!_ I- _I-_ _Jester~ Aaaaahh-”_ The broken words spill beautifully between moans and high-pitched whimpers, and Jester decides she’s had enough. Kneeling up and bringing her unoccupied hand beneath her, she guides his cock to her opening, and sinks down in one swift movement. It’s a bit of a stretch, but she’s wet enough from her previous orgasm that it’s not an issue, and the hoarse yell from behind her more than merits the effort. 

She clenches down, relishing the way his ridges press against her sweet spot, and inadvertently digs her fingers into his ass. 

The wild cant of his hips in response almost throws her off and her free hand flails violently to make up for lost balance, Molly stuttering out dazed apologies as his claws rake down her hips.

“S- _SO sorry, aAHH-_ ** _FUCK- NNGH-!”_** Tumbles desperately out, rushed and feverish, and Jester only wishes she could see his face.

Tightening her legs around his, she rises a centimetre before letting herself drop back down, wiggling her fingers against him in a come-hither motion that wins her a scream. The headboard bumps the wall, hard enough to dent the wood, and through the haze of pleasure she reasons it’s nothing a quick cantrip won’t fix. 

Not a moment later, he’s stiffening beneath her, shuddering hard enough to make her teeth click, and crying out in defeat. She gives him a moment to catch his breath before manoeuvring herself around to face him. Sure, he keens at the overstimulation, but as soon as she’s settled his death grip on her thighs returns, claws drawing tiny pinpricks of blood. 

Jester grabs him by the tail and rocks her hips. 

Laughing at the way his voice cracks on a yell, she bites her lip and glances back, and...

...By the _gods_ does she love what she sees.

The light glints off bared fangs, sparkling on smudged eyeliner and gold piercings. With his soft lips bitten red and dark lashes fluttering hard against tear-stained cheeks, he’s the picture of debauchery. 

She lifts up and turns around, bringing her free hand to his face and wiping away the moisture beneath his eyes, and he whimpers, leaning into the contact as his hips jerk weakly. Jester smiles, swivels hers in return and presses him back down. The soft little hiccupping gasps and whines persist, to her delight, and it’s about ten minutes this time before they start to build back up into desperation. 

“Jessie, _please. Please please please,_ never felt like this, never- never had this- I don’t- don’t know what to-”

“Shhhh sweetie, I have you. I’ve got you! Right here.” Cupping his cheek, she runs a thumb across his mouth. “You can take everything you need, it’s okay. You’re doing beautifully, I’m _very_ pleased.”

Almost sobbing in relief, Molly thrusts up with a low keen, and Jester nudges him in the side.

“You wanna switch? I think it helps to have something in you as well, but I mean, I don’t have a dick, so I guess I wouldn’t know…” She doesn’t wait for an answer, just rolls them gently over and spreads her legs. Molly’s arms shake and he falls flush with her chest, burying his face into her neck and growling faintly.  
  
“You can bite me, it’s okay. I don’t have anyone else right now, and it does feel _pretty good_ when you’re like this.” He can’t see her smile, but it’s very, very soft, sharpening to a snarl of pleasure as his teeth close hotly on her neck.

“Yes, that’s right! Right there, good boy. That’s _perfect.”_

She’s babbling, but she really can’t bring herself to care. She hadn’t really noticed before now, but she’s exhausted, and it’s a relief to let him do the work for a while. Plus, the new angle presses up _just right,_ and the stiff pattern of keratin beneath the head of his cock is _just where it’s supposed to be,_ and there’s a mouth closed tight over her scent gland, and Jester’s never let herself feel so _held._

“I-in me? Please?” Her heart skips a beat and she smiles. 

“Yes, lovely- I only have my fingers, I’m so sorry- I think even with you _this_ ready for me my tail might be a bit too much.”  
  
Molly groans.

“Jesssster… Please?” Hard as it is to tell, she thinks his eyes have fogged over. There’s a hazy lack of focus there in those beautiful half-lidded rubies, and Jester suspects he’s finally lost to the pleasure and the need. She winces in sympathy.

“I’m sorry my pretty thing, I’m _so_ sorry, we will get you something more _very soon,_ I promise. For now, is this okay?” 

She knows her tone is concerned enough to worry him should he be properly lucid right now, but the only response she receives is a high whine. 

“Shhh sh sh sh, **all is fine, all is okay.”** The infernal calms him some, and he settles enough for her to kiss him, gentle and chaste, before turning back around and sinking onto his cock. 

“AAH!” His cry is gratifying, as is the thump of his horns once again meeting the headboard, and Jester laughs, some of her high mood returning. She bends forward, stroking at his thigh as she presses two fingers back into his hole with clerical precision.  
  
**“FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck fuck- oh- ohhh Jester, fuck, fuck me, fuck me** **_please-”_ **

Ahah! Full sentences! Or… As close to a full sentence as Jester supposes she can expect, given the circumstances and all.

She drags her fingertips back and forth along his inner wall, finding that perfect spot and massaging till her wrist aches, all the while the stream of curses behind her grows more broken.  
  
After what feels like an eternity, the heat around her hand clenches tight at the same time as his hips buck up, and she cries out in pleasure as the head of his cock hits her where it matters. Molly’s whimpers grow louder and louder before they cut off and he arches, hips up and back off the bed as his tail thrashes frantically beneath him. 

“Literally never been more glad of anti-baby potions.” It’s a mutter, just to herself, really, but from behind her comes a tired laugh.  
  
“You and me both, darling.”  
  
“Molly!” She’s delighted, leaping up and turning round at once, utterly ignoring his groan as she pulls off him.

“Oh Molly, you were wonderful, well done! So careful, oh you beautiful, amazing tiefling!”  
  
The weak chuckle comes again, and then he’s reaching down. Jester gasps as long fingertips brush against her lower stomach, and Molly bats his lashes at her.

“Ticklish?”  
  
She tries to pout and fails utterly. “Not where it counts. You owe me like, at least three orgasms by the way.”  
  
This time, the laugh is stronger. “Oh, you bet,” his fingers dip lower, tracing a line from her navel to her pussy and taking their sweet time over the curve of her stomach. “Mind if we save a couple for later, though? Only I think I’ll pass out if we keep going _too_ much longer.” 

Jester squirms at the slow, teasing descent. “Yeah, yeah, get on with it already!”

And with that, she grabs his wrist and guides his hand firmly back to her clit.

**Author's Note:**

> Whelp.
> 
> Comments and kudos fuel me, water my crops, feed my peasants etc. Please love me.
> 
> PS: If you happen to have anything you wanna see, do leave it in the comments, I am open to suggestions.


End file.
